Old Dogs


the sands
of my past
a haven of carefree retreat
another venue of recreation
other signs of life
merely nuisances
to be tolerated
to be avoided
while I pursued
the exhilaration of escape
at the expense
of all
around me

I had homes
safe and secure
obediently awaiting my return
the desert ceasing for me
once the vehicles were garaged
the clothes laundered
my attentions again returned
to the material world
of my making

the sands
of my present
have assumed new
meaning and definition
for I see them as another world
with life and purpose
equal to my own

I am
an interloper
in a land
I can neither master
nor destroy

the desert waits
to engulf my meager realities
to absorb my life
and to remove my
paltry threat
of domination

I no longer feel
any desire
to return
to my home

all places
now equally hospitable
equally hostile
equally hopeless
a multitude of choices
I have none

the sands
of my future
will be my home
and sanctuary
days of amusement
and confusion
long since past

the serenity
of the desert
will comfort me
standing high
atop the dunes
looking down upon
the dormant machinations
of a self destructive lifestyle
that longed to conquer all
but in the end
was defeated
by its own fear
and irrationality

nothing else
makes sense now
other than to prepare
and to wait
for my eventual
on that horizon